Fire & Ice

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Doctor Patel

Continued from: Roommates

[F/f] [spanking] [OTK] [hairbrush] [cornertime] [tears] [humiliation]

Written by Skylar St. Germaine

"Please, Skylar, punish me." 

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before. My hand, poised above her bare bum, clenched into a fist before relaxing again. 

With a swift, decisive motion, I brought my palm down hard against Eesha's upturned ass. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, mingling with Eesha's sharp cry of pain. A red handprint bloomed instantly on her bronze complexion, and I watched, transfixed, as she squirmed against me. 

Again and again, I spanked her, each smack harder than the last, my hand stinging with the force of the impacts. 

With each punishing blow, Eesha's cries morphed into desperate apologies and promises. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I'll do better, I promise. Please, Skylar, I'll be a good girl!" 

Her words fueled my fervor, spurring me to spank harder, faster, until her ass was a canvass of crimson and purple. 

"I won't disappoint you again," she vowed, her tears flowing freely now. "I'll study harder, I swear!" 

When I felt Eesha go limp across my lap, I slowed my assault, my hand gentling to soothing strokes across her bare bum. "Shhh," I whispered. "You've been punished enough for now." 

Eesha collapsed against my legs, her body heaving with exhausted sobs. Slowly, she slipped her arms around my waist in a tight embrace. "Thank you for punishing me, Skylar." I ran my fingers through her disheveled hair and told her everything would be okay. 

Eesha clung to me for a moment longer, before reluctantly releasing her hold. With a soft sniffle, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wincing as she gingerly rubbed her sore bottom. I watched as she shuffled towards her bed, her steps hindered by the panties still pooled around her ankles. She crawled atop the covers, curling into a small ball around a pillow and quietly sobbed herself to sleep. 

For Eesha, this was no game, no sexual fantasy. It was a deep-seated need, a compulsion born of years of strict upbringing and the weight of expectations. And I, her friend and confidante, understood the gravity of my new role. 

In the months that followed, an unspoken ritual emerged between us. Every few weeks, I would return to our dorm room to find Eesha standing in the corner, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her bottoms and panties pulled down. 

Wordlessly, I knew this was my queue to help her with whatever she was struggling with. I would guide her by the bicep to her bed, to my bed, or to a nearby chair, and position her directly over my lap. 

As our ritual evolved, so too did my autonomy to punish her more creatively and effectively. On some occasions I would reach for my belt, other times it was Eesha's own hairbrush, the unforgiving wooden surface leaving ashy-white splotches on her bare bum. 

I began to incorporate enforced corner time into our sessions, before and after her spankings. I even insisted that she start stripping fully nude for me, before being sent to the corner or going over my knee. 

"Socks too, Eesha. I want you fully nude," I would command and she covered her face with her hands and cried into her palms. 

These moments of vulnerability, of enforced introspection, seemed to bring Eesha a sense of peace. They allowed her to confront the demons that drove her need for strict punishment, to accept the consequences of her actions. 

Years have passed since I last saw Eesha. Our paths diverged after graduation, she pursuing her dreams in medicine, while I took an internship with NASA. But now...now I'm here, at Mistress Andrea's Facility, providing the exact same service to men and women, that Eesha once needed. 

I often find myself wondering what Eesha would think if she saw me now. Would she recognize the echoes of our shared past, in the way I wield a paddle now? Or would she see me as some sort of deviant, a perversion of the friend she once knew? 

I like to believe that Eesha would approve. After all, it was our time together that first awakened this side of me, that showed me the transformative power of adult spankings and discipline. 

I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It had been years since Eesha and I had spoken, yet the memories of her vulnerability lingered within me. I wondered if she still felt the same need for structure, for discipline, that had once landed her over my knee with her bum bare. Or did she still crave the cathartic release that only a thorough spanking could provide? 

I was between discipline sessions at the Facility, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a simple message to Eesha: a single heart emoji, followed by the words 'miss me?' 

I hit send, my pulse quickening as I waited for a response from Eesha, who was listed in my phone as Doctor Patel. Finally. three dots appeared, signaling that Eesha was typing. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the screen, anticipation coiling in my gut. 

And then her reply: 

"More than you know."

My heart leapt at the sight of those four words, a surge of warmth flooding through me. Whatever doubts I may have had about reaching out, vanished in an instant. Eesha still needed me, still craved the unique brand of discipline that only I could provide for her. 

And I was more than ready to deliver!

Goddess Sky

Continued in: Adorable A.I.

The Librarian

Continued from: Update your Resume

[F/ff] [female supremacy] [sci-fi] [lezdom] [spanking] [Goddess] [athlete] [academic]

As I settled into my office chair, the familiar surroundings of the Facility enveloping me in their comforting embrace, I found myself engrossed in a conversation with Mandy. The phone pressed against my ear, I listened intently as she shared her decision regarding the receptionist position I offered her. I had such high hopes for this development. HAD...*sigh*

While I had hoped to bring her on board as a permanent fixture at the Facility, I understood the constraints of her busy life as an ER nurse and dedicated soccer mom. Her responsibilities outside of our shared passion were numerous and demanding, leaving little room for additional commitments. As Mandy expressed her regret at having to decline the offer, I assured her that I fully supported her decision. 

However, there was a silver lining to this cloud of disappointment. Mandy's desire to remain a regular client and submissive at the Facility, filled me with joy. She even hinted around a Boss/secretary scene between she and I, just to make it up to me. 

Ohhh, I think I can help her with this fantasy. 

As I wrapped up the delicate conversation, I was momentarily distracted by the arrival of Summer, my beloved wife and submissive partner. She entered the office with a grace that belied her state of undress, clad only in a maid apron, stockings and towering heels. The sight of her bare back and exposed bum sent a shiver right to my pussy. 

Summer approached me silently, bearing a steaming cup of coffee as if it were an offering to a goddess. 

With practiced ease, she sank to her knees before me, her lips brushing against the polished leather of my high heels in a gesture of reverence and devotion. 

She's always quite submissive but I could sense something was up. It didn't take long before the confession escaped her lips. 

"A week old email, you say, young lady?" I mused aloud, my voice moderated into a sense of calm authority. 

"Did I not ask you to check our inbox daily, Summer Addison? We have quality service standards at this Facility for a reason, for the sake of our clients." 

Summer's eyes remained downcast, her shoulders trembling slightly as she awaited a punishment she knew was inevitable. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," she quivered from her lips. "It actually wasn't one email Ma'am...it was eighteen of them." 

"I'm sorry, eighteen, you said?!" I hissed from my lips while cupping her chin into my hand. 

"Go and fetch the riding crop from the other room, Summer Addison, and put on your whipping outfit." 

(For caning or cropping punishments of Summer, I make her wear black shapewear that frames her two bum cheeks perfectly and covers areas too high or near her tailbone that I wouldn't want to target. Plus, the constricting garment lifts her bum more fleshy and rounded for me)

Look at those perfect little mounds! Ohhh she's in deep shit.

The act of punishing my lovely wife never failed to stir a complex array of emotions within me - the satisfaction of maintaining order and control which is what she needs and wants, tempered by the tenderness I felt towards her. When Summer returned, prepared as I had asked, she knelt and presented me with the whip. I accepted it with a nod of approval. "Good girl," I murmured, my voice laced with a mixture of sternness and affection. 

I had her stand and face the wall for a little while, to anticipate what was coming, before finally breaking the awkward silence. 

"Alright young lady, bend over the desk please, you know the drill." Summer moved to comply, her body gracefully folding over the polished surface of my desk, her predominately bare bottom presented vulnerably to my gaze.

"Eighteen strokes, I believe, will suffice to remind you of the importance of diligence in your duties," I declared, my voice steady and authoritative." Count them aloud for me, please." With that, I raised the crop, the supple leather whispering through the air as it descended to meet Summer's waiting bum. 

"One. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

I obliged, the crop finding its mark again and again, each stroke painting a new line across her porcelain bottom. 

"Thirteen. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

The final five strokes were delivered with measured precision, her bum cheeks were a canvass of crisscrossed welts, angry and red, standing out starkly against her pale skin. 

"Shhh, it's over now," I soothed, helping her to stand upright as I pulled her in for a hug. 

"You did beautifully, my love," I whispered, drawing her closer to kiss her forehead. "Now, let's see about those emails." 

With Summer now forgiven, I guided her to the chair, watching with a mixture of satisfaction and sympathy as she gingerly lowered herself onto the seat, her welted bottom making contact with the unforgiving surface. 

As she began to sift through the neglected emails, the room fell silent save for the gentle click of the mouse and the occasional rustle of fabric as Summer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Minutes passed, the monotonous task of sorting through correspondence stretching on until suddenly, Summer's posture changed. She sat up straighter, her eyes widening as they scanned the screen. 

"Ma'am," she began, her voice tentative yet tinged with hopeful excitement, "there's an email here from a young woman named Skylar. She says she's a librarian, 28 years old, and she's inquiring about administrative positions at the Facility."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this timely development. 

"Is that her? Make that bigger for me, honey," I guided Summer's hand to the mouse to hover over Skylar's profile picture. 

"Oui, Madame...I guess dis is her..." Summer cheerfully chirped, while holding back a giggle. 

"Does she know what we DO here?!" 

I blurted out in partial laughter, ashamed of myself for being so judgey. 

"A librarian huh?" 

Little Skylar is actually kinda cute, probably naïve, innocent, maybe four or five cats at home? I can't bring myself corrupt this little thing...can I? 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo   

Continued in: Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

 

 

Summer Kisses

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